Page 8 of The Player's Club
I snorted.
“—I spilled a drink on one guy, and nearly dropped a plate of fries on another woman. I think some cheese got on her shoes, too.” Elodie grimaced. “But don’t tell her it was me.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” I let Elodie finish pouring her beer before continuing, “What do you think of the place, though?”
Elodie seemed flustered. “Um, I don’t know. It’s distracting.”
“Distracting? What, like you enjoy what you see?”
Elodie fumbled with a mixer, vodka spilling onto the counter. “Um, sure, maybe.”
“Hey, can you make me my drink instead of talking to this guy?” a man demanded, giving me an annoyed look.
Shit. I didn’t want to get her in trouble. I put up my hands, then mouthed to Elodie, “Good luck.”
I slanted my eyes to the impatient patron. “Be nice to her.” Then I stood, making sure the guy took in my full height, how much I towered over him. The guy quickly broke eye contact with me. Smart move.
I wandered around again, stopping to talk with a few people I recognized. One woman, Layla, who was often in one of the BDSM/punishment rooms, took my hand and squeezed it.
“I’m going to a room now,” she said. “Will you come and watch?”
I lifted her hand, bringing her knuckles to my lips and kissed the top. “If you’re going to be the star of the show, of course I’ll watch.”
Making myself comfortable in another watch room, I watched as Layla was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Three men were involved in her punishment tonight. One man tied her so she hung from the ceiling, while another whipped her—softly at first, but with more force as she cried out in both pain and ecstasy. The third man fingered her pussy, but only enough to keep her perpetually on the edge.
Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but wonder if Elodie would like to be dominated. Here I go again, thinking about the server. Although I enjoyed watching others, my personal kink was being a Dom. I loved having a woman at my mercy, controlling her every cry and every movement of her body. I loved when I could bring a woman to the edge of climax over and over until she begged for release.
Seeing a woman covered in welts and then kissing those welts during aftercare as I held her close—it was strangely beautiful.
I’d only spoken to Elodie for a few minutes, yet something told me she’d balk at something like getting whipped. Sure, some women were into light bondage, but the few times I’d tried to up the ante, those same women had run in the opposite direction. One woman had called me sick in the head when I’d told her I wanted to put a ball gag in her pretty mouth.
Not Layla, though. She was panting now, the trio of men inflicting pain to bring her pleasure. Layla’s muscles were taut, her nipples pointed and dark, and I could tell she was about to come. But they wouldn’t allow it so soon—not for a while yet.
I drank and watched, letting my thoughts drift away, the sounds and sights filling my senses. When I was younger, I’d have to stifle the urge to stroke my cock while watching a scene like this, but now I simply let my own body grow painfully hard without any stimulation.
In the years of learning and becoming a master at the intricacies of bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism, I’d also learned how to control my own body. I could bring it to the edge and keep it there, never giving in to orgasm.
Layla screamed as she came, her body convulsing, the orgasm lengthening as one of the men pumped in and out of her pussy and the other fucked her in the ass. The moans and wet flesh slapping created an erotic symphony of noise.
It was a heady scene, one I could immerse myself fully in, and by the time I exited that watch room, I felt a little dazed. Yet I went looking for Elodie once again. The woman was like a magnet, drawing me near without even trying.
I found her beside a table, shattered glass, and a pool of whatever used to be inside at her feet. Serena, one of the owners of The Scarlet Rope, was yelling at her.
“Who even hired you? Because it wasn’t me, that’s for sure.” Serena rubbed her temples. “It doesn’t even matter. You’re fired. Go home.”
For her part, Elodie didn’t seem too upset at getting fired.
I raised a brow. “Rough night?”
Elodie sighed. “You could say that.”
She started toward the exit, but a sense of panic hit me. I reached out, touching her arm, something I was usually careful not to do without permission.”Wait. Where can I see you again?”
“Um, I don’t think—”
I released her arm and stepped in front of her. “Would you consider coming here just to enjoy yourself?”
That made her still. I watched as the wheels turned in her brain, her pupils dilating. “I don’t know . . . maybe.”